Apastron
by ashehole
Summary: When two stars that orbit each other are as far away from each other as they can get.


**i.**

She's seventeen when Kavar takes an interest in her.

Well, no. That's not exactly the way it goes. The masters have always been a little interested in Meetra - in the abrupt way people hate her and the way others fall in line when she talks. The masters aren't immune to that kind of power, either. She's known since she was a kid that Vrook doesn't like her.

But it's real interest that Kavar takes. Her master died years ago, and Vima has been gone from her life for a few years now. Revan and Alek are gone.

He takes interest in her because she has potential, he tells her. And that kind of potential needs a teacher, and he just so happens to be without a student.

A smile flickers over Meetra's lips as she looks up at him. "Are you asking to officially be my master?"

His blue eyes sparkle, and it's perhaps the first time that Meetra really notices them. They're light and beautiful and full of laughter. They remind her of Alek's a little bit. "No. But there's no need for your training to fall to the wayside."

She grins now, and it's maybe the first time she's smiled like that since Revan and Alek left her behind. "Okay."

* * *

><p>Atris arches one snowy eyebrow as she stares down at Meetra. The other Jedi is a few years older than her, but they're good friends. As good of friends as anyone can be with her, that is. It's easier now without the barrier of Revan, of course. After he left, Atris laughed about how Meetra would have to stand on her own from now on.<p>

It's a strange friendship.

"What," Meetra says with a wrinkle of her nose. She pulls her light brown curls away from her face, tying them up.

"You blush every time you say Master Kavar's name," she points out.

Her cheeks heat up. "No, I don't."

"I don't remember you getting flustered over Master Vima," Atris points out.

"I'm not getting flustered, Atris." Except she is now, and she can feel the weight of her friend's judgement pressing down on her. Emotions, they have all been taught, make them quick. Trust your fellow Jedi, but don't grow attachments. But that is exactly what Meetra has always done, why so many people hate her. Fear her.

It doesn't matter the emotion, but she brings it out in them.

Atris rests a pale hand on her shoulder. "You're quite red."

"You're making fun of me," she mumbles, turning her gaze up into the endless Dantooine sky.

**ii.**

Sweat clings to her skin, rolling down her back and making her hair damp. She leans over, hands on her knees as she breathes in deeply. Kavar stops and jogs back to her. He casts his shadow over her as he hovers.

"You did good today," he compliments.

"I feel like I'm going to puke," she mutters before finally straightening. He's as disheveled as she feels, stripped to the waist to beat the heat of the summer as the jog around the fields of Dantooine.

"Good. That just means you're training your body again," Kavar laughs.

Meetra does her best to not look over his bare chest and the way sweat glistens on his skin. Thank the Force she's just pushed herself as hard as she has because she can blame any flush on her skin on that.

"Are you saying I was out of shape?"

"A little bit." His grin is cheeky, and there's something light about the teasing. Something different.

With Revan and Alek, things always felt more heavy. Revan wasn't the type to make jokes, but Alek would. Nothing like this, though. Alek was heavy. Alek was a boulder while Revan was the earth.

Kavar's air, light and happy and fierce.

"You're going to regret that, you know," Meetra says. She raises her arms over her head, stretching her body out. Her shirt clings to her body, the hem riding up her waist. There's no way she mistakes the way his gaze dips and moves along the strip of bare skin.

There's no way Kavar is looking at her like that, either.

"That's the point of training. I want you to be better than me, Meetra," he tells her, his hand clapping against her back in a jovial move. But his hand lingers too long. It burns through the fabric of her shirt.

"I'll settle for being just as good." She's quiet for a second before jerking her head back in the direction of the academy. "I'll race you."

He narrows his gaze, looking from her to the direction of their home. "What do I get if I win?"

"I don't know, what do I get when I win?" she counters, and it brings another laugh out of him. It's hard to imagine that he's as strong as he is. That he somehow made it onto the council with someone like _Vrook_.

"I have a very uncommon lightsaber crystal that I think would work for you," he offers to her.

Her heart hammers in her chest. "Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. In that case, if you do happen to beat me, I'll let you teach me how to heal."

"Oh, you will? That's very generous of you."

"I know," she says with a rare laugh before turning on her heel without warning.

He yells her name as he runs after her.

She wins, of course. He even still teaches her more about Force healing, because she feels so bad for leaving him in the dust.

**iii.**

"Your technique is wrong," Kavar chides gently.

"How can it be wrong?" Her chest heaves with effort. They've been training for hours, it feels like. She follows every movement of his form, copies each step he takes. It's not good enough, and she feels the same disparity that she's always felt when training with Revan and Alek.

She's not good enough. Average, they've always whispered, and it's either a self-fulfilling prophecy or she really is average.

As always, Kavar gives her an easy smile. He's gentle with her, but firm. He's what a master should be, someone who makes her feel good about herself. Who corrects her and reprimands her when she needs it.

It's a terrible thing that she's started to desire him, because she could have really been taken as his padawan.

He comes up behind her, one hand on her hips as he guides her into a different position. His other hand presses against her shoulder blades. She tenses at first, before relaxing into his touch, letting him move her where he wants. It's nice, she thinks, to feel his fingers against her. Mostly, though, she just appreciates what he's doing to help her master the form.

"There," he says. His voice is loud in her ear instead of the whisper she was sort of hoping for.

That's what Revan would do, breathe against her skin.

Kavar isn't Revan, though. Meetra knows that.

"How does that feel?" he asks her.

She nods. "Better." Her arms raise up, lightsaber hilt held in her hands. "Do I look better?"

Blue eyes roam over her, observant and lingering, the looks mingling so well that she doesn't know if it's a teacher proud of his student or something more. "You always look good, Meetra. You just have to have the confidence in yourself."

"Doesn't the council speak against confidence?" She's disappointed when he steps away.

"They speak against ego."

"Revan has ego," she points out, even as her body moves through the motions of the form again. This feels right. Power flows through her body, the Force tingling at her nerves. Her blade is blue as it comes to life with a _snap-hiss_ and she moves through the form once more.

Beneath the low hum of her crystal - the one Kavar gave her - she hears his low intake of breath, the hitch in his lungs, the weight of his Force against her.

"I think that's enough for today," Kavar says, and Meetra automatically disengages her blade.

She stares at him with wide blue eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"

"You admire Revan a lot, don't you?" His tone is careful, as if he's really asking something else underneath of his words.

She's young, but she's always been observant and smart. Her mind was made for calculations and strategy. She bites down on her lower lip and tastes sweat and wonders how it is that anyone could look at her right now in a way that was _more_. But he is. She sees that now.

"He's my friend," she states proudly, but that's not what he's asking.

She can't exactly tell a council member - the very kind of Jedi who upholds their codes and beliefs - that she has been in love with Revan for years, that his power is intoxicating to her.

Then again, he's the very same kind of Jedi who shouldn't be looking so ashamed for looking her over.

"The code-"

"Doesn't forbid friendships, Master Kavar." Meetra hooks her lightsaber to her belt before folding her hands in front of her. "We're friends."

He looks pained as she says it, though.

"I consider you my friend," she continues softly. She is eighteen and alone, without friends and a proper master. Kavar is all that she has left now.

"I consider you one of mine as well."

**iv.**

Kavar avoids her after that. It's subtle at first. He is, after all, a master. A council member on Dantooine. He doesn't have the luxury of babysitting her constantly, and since their relationship is informal at best, she can't accompany him.

But then he finds excuses to miss scheduled training. Brushes her off with important paperwork. With training some of the younglings.

It takes weeks before Meetra finally lets it in that he's doing his best to not be around her. It fills her up with dread, clenches her chest, makes her feel sick.

She finds that there's a prickling sort of pain behind her eyes if she thinks about it for too long. She hasn't cried since Revan and Alek left.

**v.**

Meetra finds Kavar in his room, sliding in and listening to the whoosh of the door shutting behind her. He's surprised. Good.

"How-"

"I spliced into the console," she says easily enough.

Despite the shock, the mild stirrings of anger, he's impressed. It's in the way he half-smiles, the amusement in his eyes. "You shouldn't be in here, Sutrik."

"You told me you considered me a friend!"

He flinches back from her when she takes a step forward, and that hurts. It hurts so god awful much that she doesn't know what to do. She feels like a dumb, little girl. But she isn't. She's a Jedi. She's a terrible Jedi, apparently.

"You're angry," he says softly.

Her face crumples. "I'm hurt."

"It wasn't my intention to hurt you, Meetra." His voice caresses her name gently. It speaks volumes as usual. This was a stupid idea, she realizes. She's making things difficult for him, for the both of them.

Vrook had been right in wanting to send her away, she thinks angrily.

His hand along her jaw startles her, and she jumps. His fingers are warm and rough, hesitant. He cups her cheek and she leans into the touch. Kavar is maybe ten years older than her, but he is still as confused as she is.

That helps, at least.

"Is this why you're avoiding me?"

His thumb drags along her cheekbone. "I'm not in the habit of breaking rules."

That's why Meetra does it for him, surging forward. Her fingers bury themselves in the folds of his robes, lifting up on her toes as she kisses him. It's awkward, his mouth stiff, hers too willing. Her face burns with shame, his with embarrassment. His hands rest on her shoulders, pushing her back down until her soles meet with the floor.

"I'm good at breaking rules," she says softly. It's not an apology, not really. She still has a grip on his robes, and knowing that he won't be the one to kiss her, she pulls him down this time.

He could resist, she knows that. She's strong, but he's stronger. He bends like a sapling in a hard storm, letting her pull him down to her. This time, her lips ease over his, and he's softer this time. More willing to accept her eager mouth and what it has to offer. She kisses him softly once, twice, more times than she cares to keep count until he has no choice but to take part in this clear abandoning of the Jedi Code.

His mouth moves hungrily over hers with sloppy precision, his hands gripping her waist almost too tightly as he pulls her closer to him. He tastes like mint and order, washes over her like a sea of calm. Kavar is no storm, doesn't sweep her away until she's numb and disoriented. He keeps her balanced and on her feet, and there's something sweet about that.

They're both breathless, panting as if they've been in training for hours. Her chest presses against his with every inhale, her fingers moving until they're pressed to his neck. Her face is hot, effort and excitement coloring them both pink.

"I don't think that we're any better than other people," she whispers between them. "I don't think that Jedi have to deny themselves to protect others."

"That is how they felt before, but then the Sith rose again," he lectures. "Their emotions led to the Order's near downfall once again. We have our codes for a reason." Even as he says them, his fingers are digging into her hips.

He's at a loss, Meetra can see that. But it's not something she can rescue him from. He has to decide on his own.

"Do you want me to go?"

Kavar shakes his head. "Not yet."

**vi.**

He doesn't avoid her anymore. Nobody questions the way they resume their training. Their routine doesn't change. They don't change, except for the way Meetra's heart quickens at the sight of him, his dark blond hair catching the sunlight, the slight tug of his lips whenever he sees her. The absolute kindness that he carries in his shoulders. It's what makes her feel giddy whenever she sees him.

They don't kiss again after that first time, but she's fine with that. He has to go at his own pace, decide what's right for him. And she's in no hurry.

His hand rests on the small of her back briefly. "You've improved."

She tosses a beaming smile at him. There's something different about the way he compliments her. It isn't praise, like some of the others will give her. It isn't something that makes her feel like she didn't do _good enough_, either. He's being honest with her, and that makes her want to strive to be better all on its own.

"I've had a good teacher."

He gives her a fleeting smile, and she knows right away that something's wrong.

She steps around him. "What's wrong?"

"Spar with me."

She gives a brief jerk of her chin - a nod. Three blades fill the room with soft blue light, the humming of the weapons filling her ears like a soothing lullaby. Two blades against her one. But she's seen the way Kavar operates, even if she can't copy his forms precisely. Already her mind whirls. As she expects a Guardian to do, he attacks first, putting her on the defensive.

They're a dance of light and precision, sparks sizzling each time their blades meet. She ducks and rolls when he slashes with his longer blade, hopping up onto her feet a moment later as she slides in behind him. He twists and blocks, instantly switching from defense to offense as he pushes her back again.

Her words are short, clipped by her panting breath. He's barely broken a sweat yet.

"The Mandalorians have taken Cathar," he tells her as she attacks again, puts him on the defensive this time.

"What." It's hard to concentrate on his words and what they're doing.

"Cathar and its people have fallen." Kavar's voice is so soft, it almost gets lost in the sound of their spar.

A pang of loss fills her chest. "How?"

"They've been slowly making their way in from the Outer Rim. Almost too quietly, too planned out."

"What are we going to do about it?"

They're Jedi, and of course they're going to do something about it.

"I was going to ask you to formally be my padawan, you realize," he tells her, falling back to the force of her hit, both blades blocking her one.

She lets that roll over in her mind. Going away with him. Getting off Dantooine. _Being with him_. That's what he's telling her, that's what he's decided.

"But not now," she whispers, voice thick.

"The galaxy is more important than the two of us."

Her arms drop and he pins her down with a blue blade to her throat. "That's what it is to be a Jedi."

**vii.**

They don't kiss, even when he goes to war. She's too angry and hurt. But she regrets it when she sees him boarding his ship. It's a dull throb that beats through her. He's going to war, and this might be the last time she sees him.

She should have kissed him.

Atris follows her back into the compound. "Why are you so upset?"

Her friend sees too much of her sometimes, and she's scared. Because if Kavar is deep-set in his ways, then Atris is that tenfold. The Jedi are her life. Meetra wonders if maybe she was never meant to be a Jedi. If there's something deeply wrong with her.

"I wish I could have gone with him," she answers honestly. Because she is still his student, if nothing else. And it's every padawan's wish to join their master.

Atris' pale hand slips into hers, warm and comforting. She gives Meetra a wan smile. "Come. New recruits are here, and you are almost old enough to be a master of your own, anyway."

**viii.**

Revan returns before Kavar does. Alek wraps his arms around her waist and swings her around in a circle.

"You didn't forget about us, did you?" He laughs, and it's infectious. She laughs too, eyes bright, that void in her chest filling up again.

They've been gone for so long, she had nearly forgotten the sounds of their voices. Even though Alek had been careful to send her holovids constantly, Revan every now and then.

"Did you forget about me?" she asks in return.

Revan's dark eyes fall on her face, and she has to hide the catch of breath that comes with looking at him. Hide it from him and Alek and everyone on Dantooine. "That's not possible."

"Good." Reaching a hand out, she places it on Revan's chest briefly, feels the beating of his heart against her palm. "What brings you both back so suddenly?"

"War."

It's always war, Meetra realizes.

Revan tells her that the Jedi are pulling out as the Republic declares war. It isn't their place, the High Council has said. Her brows knit together as she thinks of Kavar on the front lines, of the amazing work he has been doing.

Alek shakes his head. "They're all coming home while these beasts infest our galaxy."

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Will you come with us, Meetra?" Revan asks her.

Her eyes widen. "Where?"

"To fight the Mandalorians."

"But, the Council-"

He shakes his head, dark ponytail flying with the force. "Can you sit here, Meetra, and say that you were okay with the Mandalorians taking everything? You've heard what they've done, haven't you?"

Her lips press together in a thin line as she huddles closer to him. "Of course, I have. But to defy the masters? Revan…"

"I told you she would hesitate," Alek says softly, and the glare Revan gives him is enough to shut him up.

Revan presses his fingertips to her jaw gently. "I need you out there with me. But I'll understand if you don't want to go. I've left you behind enough times to know that you might not trust me on this one. Think it over."

* * *

><p>She's still thinking when Kavar returns. She sneaks into his room when she finally can't take the distance. He looks haggard. His cheekbones are prominent, hair a mess, eyes almost dull. This is what war does to people, she realizes. This is what Revan is asking her to do.<p>

"You're alive," she whispers thickly.

He cups her face with both hands when she comes close enough, leaning his forehead against hers. "Did you have any doubts?"

She shakes her head. Kavar is amazing, she knows that. And the rumors of the Mandalorians both fearing and respecting him have filtered all the way down to Dantooine too. "I still worried, you know."

"It's over now, no need to worry," he says softly before kissing her.

That takes her by surprise, his careful maneuvering around them for so long shattering. She remembers, dimly, that he was going to make her his padawan. The time for that is over now, though, but there's still this. And them.

His touch is soft and sweet and fills her with an ache she had been suppressing. Her arms wrap tightly around his, afraid to let him go again. When he leads her to the bed, she goes without protest. Whatever might happen, she knows Kavar enough to know that even he will still have reservations. They rest together, curled up in one another. Where there is bare skin, their mouths move over the spots, but there is no need to undress, to go further.

After a while, when they are quiet and still, Meetra breaks the silence. "What will you do now? Will you push for war?"

"No," he says. "I told you, the conflict is over."

"The Mandalorians are still out there."

He sighs, like she is saying something foolish. Anger flits through her. "The Council doesn't want to get involved."

"How can they not? We're Jedi. We're supposed to keep the peace, and we're just going to turn our backs?"

"They feel that fighting will lead us to the dark side," Kavar tells her.

Meetra sits up and hovers over him, brown hair falling over her shoulder in a sheet. As if he can't resist, his fingers reach up to play in it. "Letting the galaxy fall to the Mandalorians will lead us somewhere, too. Don't you feel the need to protect what is ours to keep safe? Didn't you feel it when they took Cathar? Isn't that why you left, Kavar?"

"Meetra-"

"Revan is going to fight."

That shuts him up, his body going rigid. "I see."

"He asked me to come with him."

He sits up now, his fingers leaving her hair. She misses it already. "Will you?"

"Yes."

**ix.**

He comes to see her off, proving as it always has that he is a better person than her. His fingers ghost over her elbow as Revan hovers in the background. "Don't go."

"I have to. If you won't fight for what's right, then I have to," she tells him, shaking off his arm.

"And what will you have to come back to?" He glances over her shoulder at Revan, who stares back with a blank look. "Is he worth it?"

Her brow knits as she looks over her shoulder as well. "The galaxy is."

Whatever reasons either of them think she is going to fight, it's not for them or because of them. Ultimately, it is because she wants to be the hero this time.

When she returns from war, she is broken.

He refuses to see her, and she doesn't try.

**x.**

Over ten years later, they meet again on Onderon. He is tired, she can see that, but he is still the same man he always was. There is kindness in his shoulders, but weariness in the lines around his mouth. He's aged, but more with experience than actual time.

It's quiet now, in the aftermath of the would-be coup de'tat.

"You're different," he comments as they walk around the palace.

Not too far off, she can see Atton following at a safe distance, a permanent scowl etched on his face.

"Time will do that to you, my friend," the Exile says softly. "War, death, isolation." She glances at him from the corner of her eye. "I'm in search of answers, Kavar. You have them, I know you do."

"Yes," Kavar says gently. There's pain in his, in his blue eyes.

Like he regrets what he's done to her. What he let happen.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

She shuts her eyes as she walks, blocking out the wave of pain that hits her. "For what?"

"Not going with you." His fingertips ghost over her cheek. "To fight with Revan. Or when you were exiled. I should have."

"War, yes. The Jedi should have been involved in the war," she mutters angrily. "But to follow where I went? No, that was a journey I had to take on my own. I couldn't follow Revan, Kavar. And you couldn't follow me. That's how the Force works."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a reason why we are here, now. The Force led us this way."

A small, if tired, smile tugs at his mouth. "You are the Jedi I always knew you would be."

She laughs. "I'm no Jedi."

He leans in, mouth brushing over hers. Her pulse increases just slightly, but it's enough. "Who is, these days?"

Behind them, Atton curses, but he goes ignored.

Part of Meetra wants to ask Kavar to follow her now, as so many others have done. But she can't. Whatever they were, it's not there now.

And he doesn't offer.

"Come. I have one last thing to teach you, and then I will go to Dantooine to finally meet with the others."


End file.
